He did not like their brilliancy, their faces, their smiles or their words, but the freedom and the cleverness of their movements, their ability to speak much and on any subject, their pretty costumes--all this aroused in him a mixture of envy and respect for them.

He felt sad and oppressed at the consciousness of being unable to talk so much and so fluently as all these people, and here he recalled that Luba Mayakina had more than once scoffed at him on this account.
Foma did not like Mayakin's daughter, and since he had learned from his father of Mayakin's intention to marry him to Luba, the young Gordyeeff began to shun her.

But after his father's death he was almost every day at the Mayakins, and somehow Luba said to him one day: "I am looking at you, and, do you know ?--you do not resemble a merchant at all." "Nor do you look like a merchant's daughter," said Foma, and looked at her suspiciously.

He did not understand the meaning of her words; did she mean to offend him, or did she say these words without any kind thoughts?
"Thank God for this!" said she and smiled to him a kind, friendly smile.
"What makes you so glad ?" he asked.
"The fact that we don't resemble our fathers." Foma glanced at her in astonishment and kept silent.
"Tell me frankly," said she, lowering her voice, "you do not love my father, do you?
You don't like him ?" "Not very much," said Foma, slowly.
"And I dislike him very much." "What for ?" "For everything.

When you grow wiser, you will know it yourself.